


Concerning Nifflers

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-13
Updated: 2006-07-13
Packaged: 2019-01-19 03:44:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12402366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione head to Godric's Hollow to begin their quest, but things become more complicated when Ron is turned into a niffler and they can not figure out how to change him back.





	Concerning Nifflers

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

disclaimer: i own nothing

AN:  I had fun writting this  story  so I hope that you  have as much  fun reaing it!  PLEASE REVIEW!   


                                                      Concerning Nifflers  
                                                         For my cousin.

Ch.1  
In Which Ron Becomes a Niffler

Wormtail ran his silver fingers along his broken wand as though that would mend it. He was sitting, cold and shivering, in the snow. It was impossible; he could not believe his misfortune. But, he could not return without it. Looking up at the sky he shivered, but not from the snow. Such an important mission should have been given to Snape and he knew it. Why had he begged so much to take it? He began to cry. Wormtail knew that he would have to find it, wherever it was now.

ζ

Hermione sat with her quill poised above the parchment, but could not find any words to write. Outside the abandoned ice cream parlor of Florean Fortescue the sun shone brightly and the familiar scents of Diagon Alley drifted by, but there was tension in the air. Less shoppers than usual were perusing the stores and those who were moved in tight groups. They only stopped for what they needed before bustling on again. Nobody wanted to be caught outside alone so late in the afternoon.

Looking up, Hermione wondered where Harry and Ron might be. They had agreed to meet in Diagon Ally on the first of August, but she had been sitting there for hours without any sign of them. She was not worried about Ron, she expected him to be late, but her concern for Harry was written all over her face.

Just as she was thinking that she would look for them in Quality Quidditch Supplies, she spotted Ron walking uneasily toward her.

“There you are,” she called and waved. 

Ron waved back and in a moment he was sitting beside her at the small table. He looked around, “Not very cheerful around here is it?”

“Well what did you expect, Ron? Everyone’s scared these days now that Dumbledore…” she swallowed the rest of her sentence. 

“No, I meant your choice of table.” He was resolutely trying not to look behind him at the boarded up windows. “How long have you been sitting here, anyway? You could have just gone to Fred and George’s place.”

“Is Harry there?” she asked anxiously. 

“No,” replied Ron shortly, “he sent an owl saying that he had to take care of something before he came to meet us.”

Hermione’s stomach tightened, “By himself?”

Ron glanced at her, “I don’t like it either, but he’s an adult now, you know. He can take care of himself.” 

“Does he even have a plan of how we’re going to find these horcruxes?”

“I don’t know,” said Ron, “I think that’s why he wants to go to his parents’ old house, to get some ideas of where to start.” Hoping to change the subject, he glanced at the quill and parchment in Hermione’s lap. “What are you writing?”

“Just a letter,” she answered evasively. 

“Writing another letter to dear Vicky, no doubt.” Ron’s tone turned sour immediately.

“If you must know,” she said huffily, “I am writing a letter to _Victor_ to thank him for the lovely birthday gift.” 

She reached up and took from her hair a gorgeous sapphire clip. Ron tried very hard to hide his astonishment as it glinted mysteriously in the light of the setting sun. His ears turned red with the effort.

“It’s nice,” he managed to mumble.

Hermione admired it for a while longer before putting it back into the thick nest of her bushy brown hair where it continued to sparkle. Ron clenched his teeth so firmly together that his jaw muscle twitched. Then he opened it again, “And how is dear Vicky?” he asked. “Still happy being your pen pal?”

Feeling anger rising in her, Hermione knew exactly what to say, “And how is Lavender?” she asked blithely; then she added the venomous words: “Rony-poo?”

Ron’s whole face went bright red. He reached up and covered his head with his large hands as though he expected Lavender to came swooping in instantly, riding a flock of yellow canaries. He tried to think of something scathing to say, but failed.

Luckily, at that moment Hermione saw a familiar face up the ally and beamed. “Harry!” she yelled. “We were getting worried.”

She and Ron looked at each other, and in that glance there was a silent agreement to get along for Harry’s sake.

“Sorry,” Harry said as he came up behind Ron. He looked exhausted. There were bags under his eyes and his hair, which normally stood up noticeably in the back, was drooping, but there was a smile on his face. “I had to take care of Kreacher.”

“Oh that’s what you were doing,” said Ron.

Hermione’s shoulders relaxed, “Oh good,” she said, “I was afraid that you might be doing something…dangerous.”

“Dangerous? Well, you know Kreacher,” he said.

“You are being nice to him, aren’t you?” she asked suspiciously. 

“As always.” He smiled, but at the look on Hermione’s face he added, “I’ve left him with Hagrid and Madame Maxime in Paris. They’ll look after him.”

“It’s getting dark,” said Ron, looking around at the almost deserted ally, “C’mon, let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”

Not only was it getting darker as the sun disappeared behind the many buildings, but a strange fog was beginning to roll through the street. It was an eerie, chilling fog that reminded them all forcibly of dementors. All around them, store keepers were closing up warily for the night. 

Harry looked at his watch, “It’s only four thirty,” he said grimly, “barely that.”

“Exactly!” said Ron, standing up to lead the way down the street. “Fred and George want us to stop by. They said we’d better come if we don’t want sneezing powder in the next letter we open.”

Hermione stood up and raised her eyebrows at Harry, “I wouldn’t put it past them.” she said.

So, the three walked on through the darkening ally until they turned a corner and came in sight of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. As they drew closer to the shop, Harry noticed something peculiar in the doorway. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing to it.

“What’s what?” asked Ron.

“That, in the doorway, what is it?” 

Light form the street lamp flooded the entrance to Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and the three of them could just make out something pink and fluffy on the ground. When they approached it cautiously and saw what it was, Hermione laughed.

“It’s just a little pink flamingo.” she said.

Sure enough, sitting on the ground in front of them was a plushy pink flamingo doll. It had little black bead eyes in its stuffed head and a yellow beak that curved out towards the street. Its long and puffy black legs stuck out from under it awkwardly. It was certainly very cute. 

“Be careful,” warned Ron, “We don’t know what it might do.”

“Oh, Ron, it’s just a stuffed animal.” said Hermione.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood around it in a circle, looking down at the curious thing. They did this for several moments before Ron reached back and picked up a rake that was leaning on the wall behind him. “Alright,” he said, “stand back.”

With his wand in one hand and the rake in the other, Ron eased the rake vigilantly towards the plushy pink flamingo and finally made contact. He winced and jumped back as though expecting it to explode…but it did not. In fact, it did not do anything. 

Ron poked the flamingo again. It fell over with a pathetic squeak.

“Be careful around that!” said a voice from inside the shop. It was George. He came out to greet them with his twin, Fred, closely behind him.

“We haven’t quite worked out all the kinks yet.” said Fred.

Harry smiled at them, trying not to laugh. “Ron thought it might be dangerous.”

“Oh, it is!” said George seriously.

“What is it?” Ron asked his brothers suspiciously, setting the rake down, but making sure to keep it in reach. He had had too many experiences with Fred’s and George’s experiments.

“It’s part of our security system!” Fred said brightly.

“State of the art!” said George. “We invented it ourselves.”

Hermione did not bother to hide her amusement. She knelt down to look at it, giggling, “Not a very good system,” she remarked, “It doesn’t seem to work very well.”

“What a naïve young lady.” said Fred, shaking his head.

“We thought you knew us better!” said George.

“Tell me then,” said Hermione, “How it’s supposed to keep out death eaters when common gardening tools can defeat it.”

“Contrary to your belief, it’s in almost perfect working order.” said Fred.

“If a death eater had tried what you just did, Ron…” George smiled, “Well, let’s just say they’d have a hard time getting into our shop.”

“A death-eater…or Percy.” said Fred smiling back at his twin.

“Oh dear,” said Hermione, backing away from the flamingo, “You two are the only people I know who can take something innocent and fluffy and make it dangerous.”

“Innocent and fluffy things are dangerous by nature, Hermione.” said George.

“Especially if they’re pink!” said Fred. 

“Anyway, we wanted you lot to come by so that we could give you something.” George said, gesturing them to enter and pulling out three identical glass balls.

He handed one to each of them. “Now, if you ever get lost, just swallow it.” He said.

“Swallow it?” asked Hermione, examining it.

“Yup,” said Fred, “just swallow it and think of where you want to head and it’ll lead you there.”

“Thanks,” said Harry, pocketing it carefully.

“We heard that you and Ron couldn’t disparate yet.” said George. “Tough luck mates.”

“Oh and,” said Fred apologetically, “mum found out you were coming and, well, you know mum.”

“Mrs. Weasley is here?” asked Harry, not sure weather he wanted to see her or not. He did not feel like being fussed over at the moment; not when he had so much ahead of him.

Behind him, Ron rolled his eyes, “Why?” he asked himself.

George answered, “Because she wants to make sure that her ickle-Roney-kins is going to be safe.”

Harry’s heart grew heavy.

“Now, George,” said Fred to his brother in a patronizing way, “he’s not ickle-Roney-kins anymore. He’s an adult now.”

“That’s right!” said Ron grumpily.

“Now he’s big-Roney-kins!” finished Fred.

Ron glared at them as they stepped into the back room where Molly Weasley was waiting. She was wringing her handkerchief anxiously and when they entered she dropped it to the floor.

“Oh Ron!” she yelled and held her son in an iron hug, “I know you didn’t want me to bother you but…but…”

“Mum,” said Ron, rolling his eyes again. But, he hugged his mother all the same. “it’s alright.”

Then she caught sight of Harry and threw herself on him. “I don’t suppose I can convince you not to do this.”

“No,” said Harry, “It’s just something that I have to do.”

“Ron says that I can’t even send owls to see how you’re doing.”

“That’s best, Mrs. Weasley.” Hermione said, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Well, in that case,” said Molly, pulling away from Harry and wiping tears from her eyes, “I won’t have you all getting cold when Christmas comes.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out three sweaters, handing one to each of them. Ron, of course, was handed maroon, but he was resolved not to complain. “Promise me that you’ll wear them.”

“Of course.” they all said.

ζ

An hour later they were all standing outside the shop with their bags over their shoulders. 

“Ready?” asked Harry.

Ron grumbled, “I’ll never be ready for that bus.”

Hermione shrugged and Harry stuck out his wand hand purposefully. There was a BANG and the familiar Knight Bus appeared. They stepped back and the door opened for them with the sound of steam escaping a tea kettle. 

Nobody came out to greet them.

“I guess they never got a replacement for Stan.” said Harry apprehensively.

Tentatively, the three of them stepped onto the silent and waiting bus. Beds lined the walls as usual, but there were no passengers in them. The bus seemed to be completely empty and it made them all nervous. 

It was a moment before Hermione realized that she was clinging to Ron’s arm and she let go quickly. “Hello?” she called.

“Ahhhhhhh!” 

Someone jumped from behind the front bed, waving their hands wildly! It was Ernie. He was pale and frightened, looking positively mad as he brandished a roll of salami at them. 

“Who is that!” he yelled in a reedy voice. Then he blinked through his spectacles and lowered the salami, “Oh, it’s you.”

They were all startled by this bizarre greeting, but Harry was the first to recover. “Ernie,” he said quietly, “What’s wrong?”

“What were you going to do with that?” Ron pointed at the salami with wide eyes.

“I was going to hex you with it.” sighed the old driver.

“With a salami?”

“No, with my wand.” Ernie looked at the meat in his hand, just realizing that it was there, “Oh, wait, not that.” He thrust the salami into Hermione’s arms and dug around in the pockets of his shabby robes and finally pulled out his battered wand. “There it is.”

“Has someone attacked you, Ernie?” asked Harry.

“What?” he asked, taking his place again behind the wheel, “Oh, no, I haven’t been attacked yet.”

At that moment he started the engine and the bus lurched forward with a bang. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were thrown backwards. Ron landed in the waste basket at the other end of the bus.

“As a matter of fact,” said Ernie, “nobody’s been on the Knight Bus for weeks. Business has been bad.”

“I can’t imagine why.” said Ron, trying to dislodge his back side from the small basket as the bus swayed.

Ernie seemed very distracted as he muttered darkly, "Ever since they took Stan, I've been feeling a little...edgy." 

Harry was concerned, but Ernie waved away his offered comfort and asked, “Where to, then?”

“Godric’s Hollow,” Harry replied, dragging himself onto a bed, “to a muggle inn, if you know any.”

Ernie nodded. "Tis’ a muggle village." And for the rest of the trip he answered them with a simple, reedy "Aye" or "Nay".

Hermione struggled to help Ron and soon they were all balancing as best they could on a bed.

“Oh! Um…it’s a bit late…but,” said Ron, pulling a book titled _Magical Hiccups_ out of his bag and handing it to Hermione, “happy birthday!”

“Thanks Ron!” said Hermione, reading the back, “It looks really –.” But, the bus lurched violently again and they were all tossed off the bed.

**ζ**

It was late at night when Ernie dropped them off at a muggle inn. Harry had enough muggle money to get the three of them a room on the ground floor in the back. Once they were all settled, Hermione pulled out her letter to Krum and began to write in earnest.

Ron was stretched out on the sofa listening to the muggle radio play a song by an old jazz singer with a sleepy soothing voice. Harry had left the room to walk up the street and get them all some muffins at a bakery whose lights were still on. The scratching of Hermione’s quill against the music was more than Ron could stand. 

“So,” he said, “what are you telling Krum-cake?”

Hermione frowned, but did not look up, “I’m telling him what an insufferable bastard you are.” 

“Oh, well, that’s nice.” said Ron blithely, sitting up to look at her. “So what are you really writing?”

“What’s it to you?”

“Only that it might be intercepted.”

Hermione bit her lip, but still wouldn’t look at Ron. “Well,” she said carefully, “I plan to give it to him in person.”

Ron frowned, “Really? Is he coming to England?”

“He might, I don’t really know.”

“Well then, we’ll have to find out for sure so that we can all be ready for precious Vicky.”

“That’s it!” Hermione snapped, pulling out her wand, “If I hear you say Victor’s name again, so help me, I will turn you into… into something more awful than you! It will be a challenge, but I like challenges.”

Despite the weakness of her resolve, when Hermione threatens to transfigure someone, they do what she says if they like having thumbs. So Ron was forced to fold his arms and glare at the floor.

As Hermione resumed her scribbling, Harry entered the room with a bag of warm muffins. “Hey,” he said, “what did I miss?”

“Nothing of consequence.” said Hermione, determinedly not looking at Ron.

Harry handed her a muffin which she accepted gratefully. Then Harry gave one to Ron and sat down at the table with his own. “What are you writing, Hermione?”

“Oh, she’s writing to…” Ron began, but a glare from Hermione made him redirect his sentence, “well…you know who.”

Harry coughed on his muffin and spluttered, “W-What!?!”

Hermione’s cheeks were stuffed with muffin and she was unable to explain Ron’s meaning. So Ron said, “No, not that you know who, the other one.”

“There are two?” Harry blinked and felt stupid.

Hermione swallowed, “No!” she coughed, “I’m writing to Victor!”

“Oh,” said Harry and then as comprehension further dawned on him, he said again, “ _Oh_.”

This put and awkward silence between the three of them. The jazz singer continued her up beat lullaby, but Hermione did not continue her letter. She rolled it up carefully and put it into her bag. Ron sat on the sofa glowering at his muffin before, pretending that it was Krum’s head, taking a vicious bite out of it.

“So tomorrow we’re going to find your old house?” Hermione inquired.

“Yes,” replied Harry, “Or anything relating to my parents. It’s not much, but it’s a place to start.”

There was more silence and Ron was just thinking that he was ready for bed when he heard something. It was sharp and sudden, like the cracking of a twig outside. It made him uneasy. “What was that?” he asked.

No sooner had the words left his mouth that there was an enormous crash outside their back door. All three of them leapt up and Ron moved over towards the door. Slowly he opened it and poked his head outside. 

All was still and quiet. There was a short patio of concrete where two trash cans had been tipped over and after that was a small stretch of grass. Beyond that was a dense clump of trees and darkness. 

“Hello?” he called into the darkness where silence answered him. “Who’s there?”

“It’s the pizza man,” said Hermione brightly from inside, “oh, Ron, don’t be dense.” 

“The pizza man? Who?”

She pulled him away from the door, “It’s either nothing or it’s dangerous, both of which mean that we shouldn’t leave the room.”

“Hermione’s right,” said Harry, but Ron wasn’t listening.

“I’m going to find out what that was!” he said, recklessly walking out the door.

“Ron, no!” hissed Hermione. “Get back here!”

But, Ron ignored her and disappeared into the trees. Harry made to follow after him, but Hermione held him back. “We don’t know who’s out there.” she whispered.

“But Ron can’t be out there alone.”

“He’s just being thick, Harry!”

“I agree with you there, but that still doesn’t mean…” Harry never finished his sentence.

There was a flash of green light from the trees and they heard Ron yell. “Ron!” they both called, but Ron did not answer. Harry ran out to find him, but Hermione couldn’t move. 

She slumped down onto the floor and mumbled a faint, “Oh, no.”

It seemed that an age had gone by before Harry returned to the room carrying something like a small porcupine in his arms. Hermione stood up, shaking, looking around behind Harry for any sign of Ron.

“Where is he?” she asked and then she saw that Harry was smiling. “What?”

Harry glanced down at the bundle he was carrying and so did she. “What are you doing with that niffler, Harry?” asked Hermione, confused. 

“I found it next to Ron’s wand.” said Harry.

“You what? Well, what was it doing there? What does it matter, we need to find Ron!”

“Hermione,” said Harry, laughing, “I think this thing _is_ Ron!”

The niffler grabbed Ron’s wand from Harry’s hand and struggled to get onto the table. Harry released it and it ran to the ink that Hermione had been using to write her letter. It dipped its spade-shaped paw into the ink carefully and then drew and uncertain wavy line on the wood of the table.

“Don’t worry, Ron, Hermione can transfigure you back…I think.” Harry looked at Hermione who had not taken her eyes off the niffler.

“Ron?” she asked.

Ron stared up at her and shook his quills crossly. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
